Red Eye, Blue Eyes
by Soonhe'llbeeaten
Summary: After the Red Eye incident, Jackson Rippner disappears, only to show up months later with a renewed determination to get his revenge on the hotel manager who foiled his biggest mission. Starts in the middle of the action.
1. Chapter 1

Lisa's heart was beating like a frantic rabbit's. She knew he was close by. She could smell his sweet cologne wafting through the crisp autumn air like a breeze before a storm. She was crouched behind a crop of holly bushes; not an ideal hiding place, but the best she could find with the instant she'd had to look. She tried desperately to steady her ragged breathing and remain as still as possible. But dread pulled her stomach to the ground when she realized that her attempts would be futile.

The sound of a hand dragging through leaves made her heart skip a beat.

"Oh, Lis," that chilling voice said sinisterly. "You can do better than that." She caught a glimpse of his hand through the bushes. It was scratched and starting to bleed. "Now really, truly try to run." His face appeared suddenly around the bushes. His eyes were wild with excitement. He started for her, cornering her against the bushes and the wall. Lisa scrambled beneath the bushes, squeezing herself between two gnarled trunks. She used the trunks as leverage to help her through faster, but she got a face full of holly leaves in the act. When she was almost clear of the bushes, she felt a hand grab her ankle. Lisa gasped and tried to kick it off.

A second hand joined the first. Together, they dragged her backwards. "No, no, no," Lisa cried softly. She relaxed her captured leg, let him drag her a bit further, then lashed out with her foot, hitting him square in the nose. He howled with surprise and pain, and his grip loosened. Lisa surged forward, pulling both of her legs under her body. The movement pushed her spine painfully into the multitudes of thorny leaves above her, but she managed to escape.

Breathing hard, Lisa tore down the empty street, her eyes constantly scanning the path ahead of her for a weapon to use against him. This time, her weapon of choice would do more damage to him than a pen to the throat. It was her turn to be on the offensive.

She saw branches and stones, but they were far too small to do any damage. Finally, she caught sight of a dirty pink ribbon matted to the dirt beside the road. It would have to do. Lisa picked it up and swiveled around, ready.

Jackson was nowhere to be seen.

A thousand thoughts ran through Lisa's head. Should she run? No. He would find her again. She could call the police, but she would have to find a phone first. She didn't even know where her phone went. Her heart sank again when she realized that he probably had it. She shook off the new salty wave of dread and tried to think clearly. Her best course of action would be to find him...now. She cursed herself for letting him out of her sight, like he was a brown recluse hiding in her room, just waiting to crawl into her mouth the second she fell asleep.

Lisa turned around and around, wary that he could be behind any corner. She knew he was watching her, wherever he was. The hair on the back of her neck prickled.

Tactics. She needed a tactic. Higher ground, she thought, and scanned her surroundings. Her eyes landed first on the church a little ways down the road. Its gothic, patinated steeple loomed over everything, but the roof was too steep to give her an advantage. But just in front of it, there was a modest, story-high bank. The parapets would be perfect for hiding behind, and there was likely a layer of stones coating the surface. Plus, her aim would be better from a shallower vantage point.

She sprinted towards the bank, throwing quick glances over her shoulder at every chance she got. When she reached it, she flattened her back against the side of the brick and peered around the back corner. No Jackson in sight. And there was a ladder to the roof. Perfect.

Her adrenaline rush mounted to a climax as she scaled the ladder, coming closer and closer to the top. She imagined him appearing beneath her, suddenly, and yanking her off the ladder. The ladder was all that separated her from being the pursued to becoming the pursuant. Finally, finally she reached the top. And it was indeed covered with small stones. Without missing a beat, she ran to the front parapet and peered over to the ground below. The street was still. She picked up a handful of the small stones and ran, crouched, to the adjacent parapet to look over. Clear again. Then she went back to the side with the ladder, looked over, and screamed.

His sneering face was looking up at her. There was a knife clenched between his teeth, and he already had both legs on the bottom rung of the ladder. Lisa shot her fistful of rocks at his face before he could take another step. He turned his face to the side, barely in time, and growled wordlessly. Bloody knicks covered the side of his face. She had angered the bear. But that wouldn't stop her. She gathered two more fistfuls of rocks and threw them at him in quick succession. But when she came back up for her third attack, he was gone.

No! He kept disappearing. No longer trying to hide, Lisa stood and scanned the perimeter of the roof. A muffled, metallic scraping sound drew her attention to the side of the roof that was opposite her. She caught sight of Jack rounding the corner of the neighboring building, wielding a metal trash lid in front of him like a shield. Lisa looked around frantically for something to help her keep her advantage. There was nothing. He was scaling the ladder now, the trash lid held above his head. Lisa sat on the top rung and kicked the approaching metal lid with as much force as she could muster. He must have anticipated her move, because he deflected her legs with an equally forceful push of the lid. It threw her off balance, and she had to cling tightly to the ladder hooks to keep herself from falling. Jack took advantage of her mistake and grabbed both of her legs in one arm while simultaneously throwing the trash lid away. It went crashing loudly to the concrete ground.

Jack shoved Lisa's legs into her, forcing her to go careening back onto the roof. Suddenly, he was over her.

"Oh, Lis, you've made some poor decisions tonight," Jackson clucked as his knife caught the light of the nearest street lamp.

"I could say the same to you," Lisa managed to growl unconvincingly, like a lion cub, as she shuffled backwards on her hands and feet.

"Aww, look, she's trying to be intimidating," Jackson condescended. He stamped down on the hem of her pants, tugging her waistband down an inch and pinning her to the spot. "It's so adorable when you try," he whispered, putting a drawn-out lilt on the last word like he did so often. Lisa felt sick. "If you manage to wiggle out of your pants, I might consider letting you go."

"You're a sick bastard," she spat at him.

Jackson shrugged. "It's all part of the contract." Lisa tried to turn over to wriggle free, but Jackson pushed her shoulder back to the ground. He mounted her then, his knife back in his mouth, and grabbed for her wrists. Lisa fought hard to keep her hands free, much like she had in the bathroom of that damned plane so long ago. But Jackson intercepted her flailing arms, gathered them in one hand, and pinned them over her head. He pulled the knife out of his mouth and wiped the saliva off on her blouse. "I hate to dirty such beautiful fabric, but the back of your shirt is already torn enough from the holly leaves that I don't think you'll mind." He trailed the blade of the knife up her blouse and brought it under the top button. With a quick flick of his wrist, the fabric tore and the button came undone. He made a soft sound of approval and brought the cold, hard blade against the ropelike scar that was ingrained in Lisa's chest, just below her collarbone.

Lisa couldn't help it. Her breathing picked up, heart beating like a hammer. Tears brimmed in her eyes. "Please," she whispered. "Don't-" Her breath caught.

"Shh shh shh, don't worry. I'm not going to harm you with this knife. At least, not until you cut me with it first. You see, Lis, I've made it my mission to only hurt you with whatever means you use to try to kill me. Observe." Lisa stared in horror as he reached his hand back and pulled out a blue Frankenstein pen-the blue Frankenstein pen. He winked and returned it to his pocket. "But we'll save that little surprise for later. For now, I want you to make a choice." He leaned over and gently placed the hilt of the knife in her left hand. He laced his fingers through her right so she couldn't transfer it to her dominant hand. "Try to kill me now with the knife, making your situation worse later, or submit to me. If you fight, you will not win. And that's a promise."

Slowly, Jackson pulled his hand away from her left wrist. Still leaning over her with his one hand in hers, his upper body was an open target. It was too good of a chance to miss. But Lisa closed her eyes. She couldn't get around his mind games. She relaxed her hand, showing him that she surrendered.

"Are you sure?" Jackson asked, his high cheek bones pronounced with his sly smile.

"Yes," Lisa breathed, and turned her head to the side.

"Good." Jackson reached down, but Lisa clenched the knife with a sudden vigor and knocked his hand away with the blade. She jabbed at his stomach, managing to sink the blade into flesh, however shallow, before he jumped away. That was all she needed. Lisa used the distraction to push Jack off of her and scramble to her feet. Without a second thought, she ran to the front parapet and launched herself off the roof. There was a metal awning just below. She hit it with a thump and rolled off onto the pavement, making safe contact with her shoulder and back.

Lisa heard Jackson's frustrated curses above her, and she ran. She sprinted towards the church, some small, pathetic voice in her head telling her that she could find sanctuary there. There were three large oak doors set deep into the church's facade. Lisa slammed herself into the first one, not bothering to slow her momentum, and tugged on the iron handle. It didn't budge. She heard Jackson fast approaching, and with one last desperate attempt to save herself, she rammed the large iron knocker against the door like a dull jackhammer. "Help!" she screamed.

Jackson collided into her. He flipped her around and slammed her back against the stone wall adjacent to the door. His clear blue eyes were wild with rage. Again, he tried to grab Lisa's hands. She used any means possible to deflect him, smacking him away and trying to get an advantage. She scrabbled against him determinedly, but in the end his brute force won out over her determination. He clasped her wrists in his and brought them to either side of her head, scraping them against the stone. Lisa opened her mouth to scream again. Jackson saw it coming. Before she had time to let out her breath, he pressed his lips around her mouth. He siphoned her oxygen until she had to breathe in through her nose. She moved every free part of her body that she could in an attempt to get him off. She tried to push him away with her head, but ended up deepening the kiss. Jackson's tongue slid against her lower lip so lightly that it could have been her imagination.

Then three things happened in quick succession. Jackson pulled away and said, "Don't get the wrong idea," the door behind him creaked open, and Jackson's forehead collided forcefully into hers.

"...Hello?" a shaky voice said as a familiar wave of blackness overtook Lisa's vision.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Lisa woke to the feeling of leather straps being tightened around her ankles. Her eyes snapped open. She was in a dimly lit room; some dark place where the walls were stone and the ceiling was too dark to make out. It smelled of oil and smoke. The church.

She tried to lift an arm, and realized with panic that those were strapped down too. In an attempt to see who was at her feet, she jerked her head forward, then immediately regretted it. Her head throbbed. White spots popped and swam across her vision, blinding her sight momentarily. She groaned. This concussion was more serious than the last.

"Well hello there," a soft, shaky voice said. To Lisa's surprise, the voice sounded…friendly. A shriveled, white-haired priest came into her view. He had a beard that brushed his collarbone and a hunch that must have added an extra foot to his height when he was younger. The skin beside his eyes crinkled into a hundred tiny folds when he smiled down at her.

"Is she awake?" came another voice from behind the old priest. Lisa flinched impulsively. She tried to tell the priest to run away, that the man behind him was dangerous, that he was trying to kidnap her, or worse—but her words were slow to come. She couldn't think straight enough to say what she wanted to, and her tongue felt heavy in her mouth. Instead, she tried to get her point across by attempting to break out of her constraints.

"She's awake," the priest rasped over his shoulder. He put a soft hand on Lisa's shoulder and said, "You'd best stay where you are, dear, I think you've got quite the concussion."

Jack appeared on her other side. He looked at her with fake concern and cupped her cheek in his hand. "Oh, Lis, thank goodness you're okay. You had me worried sick."

"Ha!" Lisa managed to get out. She jerked her face back from his hand. Her mind started to clear as the panic set in.

"Jack here told me all about your epileptic episode. Lucky for you, I've performed a few exorcisms in my day. I know how to do this. Are you ready?"

Lisa looked up at the old man in horror. This was a change of events. "…Exorcism?" Her voice was a squeak.

Jack chimed in. "Yes, exorcism. You've been possessed by the devil." His voice was frank enough that Lisa almost believed he meant it. Then the two men exchanged looks and started laughing.

The priest explained, "Oh, we're just kidding with you, dear. I've lived a long life and never once had to perform an exorcism." He put up a long, wrinkled finger. "But if I did, this is where I would put the victim!" He chuckled some more.

The joke barely registered to Lisa. She just stared up at Jack with anger and confusion in her eyes. Jack was still smiling down at her, but a darkness clouded his cool blue eyes, and suddenly his smile turned sinister. He brought his attention to the priest.

"Father, could you bring me a damp towel? She looks like she has a fever."

The priest peered down his hooked nose at Lisa. "You're right. I'll be back in a jiffy!" He shuffled away, his feet dragging forward inch by inch beneath his long white robes.

Lisa again considered telling the man to call the police or run, but now she thought better of it. This man was in no shape to save Lisa, let alone himself. Instead, she continued to stare Jack down. His smile suddenly disappeared and was replaced by a blatant, deep hatred for the object of his attention. Lisa was shocked by the intensity of his glare. She looked away, but Jackson grabbed either side of her chin with one hand and forced her to look back up at him. He leaned in close and whispered, "If this man suspects that anything, _anything_, is amiss between us, I'm going to take this—" he pulled out the Frankenstein pen "—and slowly sink it into your throat until…" He stopped himself. Even quieter, he said, "No. No, I'm not going to put it in your throat. I'm going to put it in your eye. If you disobey me, I will make you half blind. Do you hear me? Be smart about this, Lis, you know I'm a man of my word."

Lisa's heart was really pounding now. She nodded slightly. Jackson seemed convinced that she got his point. He ran a hand through his hair and took a calming breath. Then he disappeared from her sight. When he reappeared, he had a small syringe in his hand.

"What's that?" Lisa asked frantically.

"Just a little something to calm you down. Can't have you running away from me again, Lis."

"I won't! I won't. Don't use that…please."

"You expect me to believe that you won't run? You're being dishonest again. You'll have to work harder than that for my trust."

He brought the syringe closer to her arm. "Wait, wait!"

"What is it?"

"My dad. Is my dad okay?"

"Yes. He's fine…for now."

"Don't do anything to him!" her voice was louder. It echoed off the walls.

Jack cupped a hand over her mouth. "Another slip like that, and it's old Frankie for you. Don't worry about your father. We haven't touched him since the Red Eye incident."

Lisa relaxed and let Jack flatten her arm. She watched as he found her vein and carefully inserted the needle into it. The pinch was fleeting, but it was followed by a numbness that rapidly spread from her arm to the rest of her body. The drug took effect almost immediately.

Lisa sighed and laid her head back down. She felt more tired than she had in awhile. The drug, added to her months of long, sleepless nights made her feel like she could fall asleep and never wake up. But she needed to ask her one burning question before she slept.

"Jack," she said wearily. He didn't respond, but she continued, feeling sleep's soothing hands trying to pull her under. "How…are you still alive?"

There was a long, hovering silence. Then he said quietly, "They won't let me die."

Sleep washed over Lisa like a cool liquid blanket.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"Look happy, Lis, we're on a date."

Lisa rolled her head to the side. "I don't think I'm capable of smiling," she slurred.

They were sitting in a booth at a flashy diner. It was too early for the normal breakfast rush, but single customers wearing work attire from business skirts to construction belts were starting to trickle in. Lisa could hardly remember how they got there. All she remembered was being dragged, stumbling, through rough asphalt streets. At one point, she may have been forced into a car. She also became aware that she was wearing a soft sweater over her blouse. To cover up the cuts on her back, she realized somewhere in the back of her mind.

"Alright. If that's how you want to play it." Jackson pulled her towards him and rested her head on his shoulder. When she tried feebly to resist, he forced it back down with his hand and began to stroke her hair. Lisa's nose filled with the sickly-sweet smell of his cologne. She didn't know what prompted her-some pheromone-induced instinct, perhaps-but she turned her face in towards his neck.

He had stubble. Almost newly-shaven stubble. The sight comforted Lisa in a strange and unexpected way. If this man shaved, then he must be human. All humans had a weakness. She just had to find his.

Lisa became aware that Jackson had paused mid-stroke. Then she realized that her lips were nearly touching his cologne-scented, stubbly neck. Mortified, she turned her head away. Jackson resumed stroking her hair.

"You're doing great," he commended, "Keep up the act."

The waitress came over then. She was wearing a pepto bismol pink uniform with a white collar and a white apron tied around her waist. Her hay-like hair was piled on top of her head and she had a beauty mark beside her bright red lips that was the size of a pea. She leaned on their table, popped her gum, and said, "What c'n I getcha, sweethearts?"

"Hi," Jackson said with a wry smile, "I'll have the eggs benedict with a side of toast." He looked down at Lisa. "What would you like, dear?"

"Just some aspirin," Lisa mumbled. Jackson's hand left her hair. He laughed and turned to the waitress.

"She's had a bit too much to drink," he explained in his calm, snakelike voice. Suddenly, Lisa felt the pressure of cold steel against her back. She immediately sat up straight. She knew that to the waitress, it looked like Jack was resting his hand on her back. But she could feel the tip of the knife digging into her skin. She sat even straighter.

"I'll have the same," Lisa said with a strained smile.

"Two eggs benedicts. I'll be right back with your orders." The waitress shoved the pen into her hair and ambled off.

"Was that necessary?" Lisa groaned. She could feel a drop of blood trailing slowly down her back, but her limbs felt too heavy for her to do anything about it. Jackson grabbed a handful of napkins and pressed them against the cut.

"Classical conditioning, Lis. Soon, you will do exactly what I say without questioning my motives."

Jackson's phone rang. He flipped it open on the first ring with the hand that wasn't pressed against Lisa's back.

"Hello...Yes...Yes..." He pulled out a pen and scribbled something down on a napkin. "Got it," then he hung up.

Lisa leaned back against the booth and tried to stay awake. She felt like she had just had two full glasses of wine. It took most of her energy to concentrate on one thought.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"In a diner." Of course.

She could remember Jack chasing her through that nearly-abandoned district the night before. With the exception of the priest, she hadn't seen a single person there the entire night. That was the last time she called a cab to take her home.

Lisa closed her eyes and remembered the heart-stopping fright she'd had when Jack appeared before her once again. It was like all of her nightmares had come together to fabricate the one spector that haunted her most of them all.

The evening had started off fine. She'd taken a cab to Cynthia's house. It was the first time she'd ever been over. Lisa hadn't wanted to go at first, but eventually she'd convinced herself that it would be best if she got out and did something for once. The two of them had the nicest dinner together. Cynthia made Lisa laugh with her stories about the patrons at the Motel 6, where she'd found a job until the Lux Atlantic was done with the repairs. They had laughed all night. Some time after they'd finished dessert, Lisa called another cab.

Lisa reflected now that something had seemed off about the cab driver. He wouldn't look her directly in the eye. He said as little as possible. But then, when they were at a stoplight, she'd caught him staring at her with wide, worried eyes. When she smiled at him, he immediately glanced away.

It wasn't until ten minutes into the ride when Lisa realized something was wrong. She sat up straight and asked, "Are you sure you're going the right way?" The surroundings were beginning to look sketchier and sketchier. Nothing like the neighborhoods that surrounded her apartment.

"Yes," he responded quietly in his Haitian accent. And then he stopped the car. He'd stopped it in this empty, quiet town where there wasn't a single residence in sight. The crickets were far too loud.

"What are you doing?" she'd asked the cab driver, trying desperately to hide the worry in her voice. Since the Red Eye, she'd been suspicious about everything. The smallest things put her on edge. But this was more than out-of-the-ordinary. Cab drivers didn't just stop in the middle of nowhere.

And then Jackson appeared in her window.

The alarm that immediately sounded in Lisa's head was deafening. Her body went rigid from shock. For a second, she questioned her vision and her sanity. Then Jack smiled and she knew it was real.

"Start the car! Start the car!" she'd screamed to the cab driver. She locked her door, unbuckled her seatbelt, and lunged over the seats in an attempt to turn the key. But the cabbie blocked the key with his hand.

"I am sorry," he said. Lisa looked at him for the briefest of moments, but she captured an image that said a thousand words. Tears brimmed in his eyes. It was obvious that this wasn't his choice. His face reflected the exact way that Lisa had felt when Jackson had threatened her father on the plane. Dread pulled Lisa's stomach to the ground. Without a moment's hesitation, she dove for the door on the other side of the car, opened it, and ran.

Lisa let out a shaky breath. She knew she should be trying to find a way out now; she should be scanning her surroundings for a means of escape. But her vision was fuzzy, and so were her thoughts. It frustrated her to no end. It was like a dream where she was being chased, but couldn't scream. She'd had a lot of dreams like that in the past couple years.

When their food arrived, Lisa just stared at it. She didn't even try to pick up her fork.

"Do you need me to feed you?" Jackson asked, giving her a condescending look with those steel blue eyes.

"No."

"I would eat if I were you, Lis. This may be your last decent meal."

An alarm sounded in her head, helping to wake her up. "What do you mean?"

He just looked at her and gave her a cool smile, the kind that perfectly defined his high cheek bones. "You'll find out soon," he said and patted her head.

Lisa jerked away from his touch and glared up at him as best as she could. "Tell me," she said, "or I'll scream."

"Scream," he retorted, "And I'll shove this pen into your throat." He again revealed the Frankenstein pen.

Lisa let out an exasperated huff. She put her head in her hands and moaned, "I'm not hungry."

Jackson shrugged. "It's your money."

Lisa looked up to see him fishing a couple twenties out of her wallet. "Where did you get that?" she asked.

"You left it in the cab, along with the rest of your personal belongings." He held up the therapist's business card that she'd been given after the incident. "Tell me, exactly how much does Dr. Schroeder know about our little plane ride?"

"Nothing…I never went."

"I know."

Lisa stared at Jack. His words slowly sunk in. "...What?" she finally asked.

"I said I know. For the past six months, you haven't gone anywhere. I was surprised you got up the courage to visit Cynthia. But if you hadn't, how would I have been able to reunite with my favorite person?" He spat the last two words. The sudden hostility in his voice was jarring.

"It doesn't sound like you wanted to see me again," Lisa observed.

"Oh, I did. I wanted to see you, and I wanted to kill you. But as fate has it, they wouldn't allow that, oh no."

"They? Who's 'they?'"

Jackson regarded her coolly. "You really do ask too many questions," he said, and continued eating.

Lisa spent the rest of the breakfast staring at her food and trying to clear her mind. She wished Jack wasn't sitting on the outside of the booth; otherwise, she would have easily made her run for it, no matter how much the drug slowed her down. But Jack, of course, would never allow that to happen.

The drug's effects were finally starting to wear off. Lisa's thoughts were coming more fluidly now. But so was her adrenaline. She became acutely aware that Jack was kidnapping her, and had orders from someone higher up to take her...where? It didn't matter. What mattered was that she had to escape before it got that far. Her heart gradually picked up speed.

Lisa was starting to get an idea of how she could get out of this. Her plan in the bathroom of the Red Eye had almost worked last time; maybe this time it would actually work. If she locked the bathroom door from the inside, Jack wouldn't be able to erase her message, and they would have to open that door eventually. Or maybe she could just lock herself inside the bathroom and refuse to come out. She could yell a warning to everyone within the safety of the bathroom, and the police would be there in no time, she was sure of it. The plan was nearly foolproof. She just had to execute it.

First things first: Lisa couldn't let Jack know that she was regaining her consciousness. She pushed her plate away and laid her head down on the table with a small groan.

"What's wrong, Lis?" Jack said impatiently, with a blatantly forced smile. She could see him discreetly scanning their surroundings to see if anyone was watching.

"Tired..." she responded.

Jack was about to make a retort, but their waitress appeared just in time.

"How d'you like the-oh, hon, are you doin' alright?"

Jack rubbed Lisa's back gently and looked up at the waitress. "She's not feeling too well," he said. "Could you bring me a cool wash rag please?" It was the same thing he had asked of the priest. Practically the same thing he'd said to the flight attendant when he'd asked for the aspirin and tissues, too. _Stupid sympathy card_, Lisa mused.

"Of course, hon, of course. I'll be right back." She hurried away, her pepto bismol butt sashaying back and forth as she walked.

"You can stop rubbing my back now," Lisa mumbled.

"Oh no, I don't think I will. I like feeling you tense up beneath me." Slowly, he trailed his hand up her spine and brought it to her neck. Her heart picked up even more. He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pressed into the soft skin just beneath her jaw bone.

"What are you doing?" Lisa squeaked.

"Just wondering how you could be so tired when your heart is beating that fast." He released her neck and smiled down at her. "Just as I thought; the drug has worn off completely. Nice try, Lis. You almost had me."

The waitress appeared again. "Here you go. Just let me know if there's anythin' else you need."

Jack accepted the rag and flashed the waitress a charming smile. "Just the check would be great."

"Of course, hon."

Jack turned away from Lisa then. Lisa slowly lifted her head to see what he was doing. When he turned back, he put his hand between her shoulder blades and pushed her back onto the table.

"No, please, by all means you should rest," he said. Lisa felt her face land on something soft and damp. She realized with horror that it was Jack's hand holding the rag. His other hand moved up to her head and locked her there. Lisa tried not to breathe, but she hadn't taken a deep breath to begin with. Her lungs needed oxygen. Reflexively, she gasped. The chloroform filled her lungs and immediately took effect. Lisa's eyelids fluttered and closed.

When Lisa stopped struggling, Jack pulled his hand away from her mouth. He looked around quickly. Nobody had noticed. He stuffed the rag into his pocket and gently repositioned Lisa's head on her hands.

The waitress came back and handed him the check. She looked at Lisa inquisitively.

Jack put a finger to his mouth. "She fell asleep," he whispered. He smiled down at Lisa and placed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Isn't she cute when she's sleeping?"

The waitress nodded her head. "Y'all make a very cute couple," she said.

"I know. Here, keep the change." He placed Lisa's twenty on the table.

"Thanks, hon. Do you need help getting her out of there?"

"I've got it. Thanks." When the waitress was gone, Jackson stepped out of the booth and reached back in to gather up Lisa's limp body. She seemed so frail. "Upsy-daisy," he mumbled as he lifted her. Then he carried her out the door, charming all the curious onlookers with his smile along the way.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

She woke up in a car with her hands tied behind her back and another rope around her ankles. Her head was throbbing, and the bottom half of her face burned.

Jackson sat in the back seat across from her. He was gazing out the window. Lisa's eyes flicked to the front seat. A stranger was at the wheel. For a second, she mistook him for the hitman she'd run into with her stolen car. But no, she realized, _that _man was long gone, thank god.

Lisa cleared her throat. "So," she said quietly, "where are you taking me?"

Jackson turned. "Oh, good. You're awake."

"Where are you taking me?" Lisa repeated, louder.

"You aren't blindfolded. You can read the roadsigns."

Lisa changed tactics. "What are you planning to do to me?"

"_I_ won't do anything. My job is only to get you to the place that's been specified. Whatever happens after that is out of my hands. Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" Jackson ignored her question and turned back to the window. "Where does this resentment towards me stem from?" Lisa couldn't help noticing that Jackson was acting colder towards her than last time. And that was saying quite a lot.

"You tried to kill me."

"Only out of self-defense!"

Jack sighed. "That's not even true. You were trying to protect your father and the Keefe family. You hardly even care about your own life, Lis. Your tear-stained self-help books are proof of that."

Lisa opened her mouth to make a retort, but she couldn't think of one. He was right. If Jackson were threatening her with her father's life again, she would submit without question. But he wasn't. Now he was threatening her with knives and pens. They hardly held the same amount of power over her. Jackson knew that, which made Lisa wonder why he wasn't using her father against her again. Oddly, she trusted him when he'd told her not to worry about her father. He _had_ made a point about being an honest man. She closed her mouth and leaned back against the car door, angled so she had a good view of her captor. He turned back to the window, his expression unreadable.

Lisa took the opportunity to stare at Jack; to really get a good look at him. She traced his features with her gaze. It was odd, she thought, how his bright blue eyes could be so friendly one second and so wild the next. It had scared her on the plane, the first time she'd seen his crazy-eyes. They had come out when he'd had her against the wall of the bathroom; his hand clenched around her throat. Worse than the pain of being choked was the weight of his manic, murderous eyes boring into her. The thought still scared her.

The rest of the time, Jackson's eyes had the look of someone carrying out an unpleasant task in the middle of an ignorant crowd. They were heavily lidded to give the appearance of boredom, but beneath his lids there was a spark of awareness; a hint of anger that could lash out at any second.

But that wasn't how they looked now. The anger was gone. It was replaced with-what? Lisa couldn't put her finger on it. But she wanted to. She _wanted_ to feel remorse for Jackson. She wanted to understand him. She wanted to stop having fantasies of herself stomping back over to Jackson's limp body and finishing the job on that fateful day. She was the farthest thing from a killer, but Jackson was forcing her to rethink that.

Lisa's gaze wandered lazily to Jackson's lips. Her heart jumped when she remembered that he'd kissed her outside the church. With all the events since then, she'd nearly forgotten. It had been so strange. Lisa reflected that it had been nothing like the parking lot incident. Jackson was just trying to shut her up, after all. There was some male, fact-driven logic behind the kiss. But Lisa couldn't forget the feeling of his tongue along the bottom of her lip, and she wondered, just for a split second, what it would be like-_no_. Her stomach lurched at the thought. She felt sick for allowing herself to go there, no matter how briefly.

Lisa swallowed nervously, almost afraid that Jackson could read her thoughts. She turned back to the window and watched the road fly by.

The two of them sat in silence. There was nothing but the sound of the rumbling car as it zipped over the asphalt streets. The highway was, for the most part, empty, but every so often they passed by a car or truck in the only other lane.

When Lisa discovered to her dismay that the window control button was locked, she tried other ways to subtly get the other cars' attention. She knocked against the window and lifted her arms to show that they were bound, but not a single driver or passenger glanced her way. Suddenly, she felt Jackson's hand on her wrist. Lisa jumped, embarrassingly.

"Don't do that," Jackson said. His voice was strict, but his eyes held no emotion. "The glass is strongly tinted anyways. They can't see you."

"Just my luck," Lisa mumbled.

"There's no luck where you're going," Lisa caught him saying as he once again turned to the window.

Lisa closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the headrest. Her stomach had butterflies, and her thoughts were racing. She needed to find a way out of this, whatever it was. She lifted her head and peered back at Jackson. He looked so...introspective. Lisa wondered what thoughts were running through his head. She remembered what he'd told her on the plane: _"I've never lied to you, Lis. You know why? Because it doesn't serve me. We're both professionals. We have the will and the means to follow through and if we don't, our customers aren't happy, and when they're not, we suffer and our lives go to shit. And that's not going to happen, is it?" _

She kept staring. Were his customers unhappy? They must have been, because in that moment, Jackson looked like a man whose life was going to shit.

He finally whipped around. "What?" he demanded.

Lisa was unfazed. "I'm trying to see the good in you."

Jack stayed silent and faced forward. His jaw was clenched.

"What drives you?" she whispered, openly searching his face for the answer to her question. "Why are you like this?"

He shifted in his seat and gave Lisa a sideways glance. "Alright," he said decisively, to no one in particular, and promptly pulled out a black bandana. He reached over and grabbed Lisa's hair in a fist, then yanked her head around so she was facing the window. Lisa didn't even try to resist. She let him push and pull her head around as he tied the bandana tight around her eyes.

"That's what I get for only looking?" she said when he was done.

"Shut up before I gag you too."

"What, is that all? No threats to stick a pen in my eye or a knife through my throat?"

"I'll leave that to the other guys. For now, you're just the way I need you to be."

"Yet you're still threatening to gag me. So I must have hit a chord."

Lisa could sense his hate-filled glare through the blindfold. She pretended to zip her lips and fell back against the seat.

The blindfold gave Lisa a false sense of security. She didn't have to fall victim to Jackson's heated glares. And since she was almost completely incapacitated, she knew there was little she could do to anger him. But at the same time, her fate was in his hands. And she trusted him completely to take her somewhere she wouldn't like.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Lisa was in pain. Her legs were cramped as anything, and the rope around her wrists was making her skin raw and red. Every time she started to drift off, she felt the rope rubbing against her tender skin and complete consciousness returned.

They had now been in the car for what seemed like days to Lisa, even though it was just a matter of hours. Jackson hadn't said another word to her except "No," when she'd asked if he could loosen the ties on her hands. She could tell through her blindfold that night had fallen hours ago. Her stomach had been growling for hours too. But the car was slowing down now, and Lisa's heart was picking up speed. Finally, the car came to a complete stop.

Lisa jolted forward. "Are we stopping?" she asked, "Are we there?"

"Just a bit of a pit stop," he responded flippantly. Lisa heard the driver's door open and shut. There were footsteps, but rather than stopping at her door, they continued away from the car. Now it was just her and Jackson. She could hear him unbuckling his seat belt. Reflexively, she pressed herself against the car door, as far from him as she could get. Then she felt her own seatbelt coming undone. A rough hand on her upper arm pulled her away from the door. That same hand bent her head forward and started yanking at the blindfold's knot. When the blindfold was off and Lisa could see again, she automatically held out her hands. To her relief, Jackson pulled out his knife and cut the rope. She breathed a heavy sigh and rolled her swollen wrists lightly. Her hands were shaking. She tried to hide that fact by gingerly stuffing her fingers under her thighs. In the process, her right hand brushed against a small bulge in her pocket.

Jackson leaned down to saw the rope off of her ankles.

Lisa didn't think twice. She seized her chance. She pulled the ribbon out of her pocket, whipped it around Jackson's exposed neck, and pulled as hard as she could. Jackson made a strangled sound. It reminded Lisa of his voice after she'd stabbed him in the throat. She pulled harder. With his initial surprise, Jackson's hands reflexively went to his throat. Then he turned his eyes to meet Lisa's. Lisa couldn't believe it—he was actually smirking. The veins and tendons in Jackson's neck stood out. His face was red. And yet, he hardly struggled. On the contrary, he made a show of dropping the knife still in his hand, his eyes still on Lisa's.

"Why. Won't. You. _Die_!" Lisa shrieked, tugging the ribbon harder with every syllable. A hot tear rolled down her face with the effort.

Jackson brought his hands back to grab Lisa's. She tried to evade his grasp, but her attempts were futile. He dug his nails into her rope-burned wrists. Lisa cried out. Jackson took advantage of her pain and jolted his head forward. Lisa felt one of the ribbon ends slip out of her hand. Without hesitating, she brought her still-bound feet up to kick Jackson away, or at least to serve as an obstacle between her body and his. Jackson grabbed the rope around her ankles like it was a handle and straightened her legs out across the backseat. He planted himself on her like the first flag on the moon. Then he leaned over her, breathing heavily, eyes bloodshot, and calmly said, "Are you done?"

Lisa couldn't move the bottom half of her body. Her arms were pinned down against the upholstery. Of course she was done. There was nothing more she could do. She just stared at Jack fixedly.

"Good." Jackson smacked her cheek playfully and smiled. "Although I don't trust you anymore than usual. I'll keep you here until Davis returns."

Lisa looked away, but she could feel Jackson's gaze burning into her.

"What?" she finally said through clenched teeth, meeting his eyes with her own. They stared each other down.

"I'm learning more about you with every minute. You weren't such a fighter when we first met."

"Yeah, well, sometimes certain events force people to change." She glared up at him.

"Is that all I am to you? An event?"

"No. You're a psychopath and a murderer."

A storm crossed Jackson's face. His eyes rapidly became heavy with hatred. Lisa felt like they were pulling her down; shrinking her. She felt so small.

"What do you see when you look at me like that?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"A woman who has ruined many lives."

Jackson's door opened. The driver appeared in the frame. He hardly seemed fazed by the position that Jackson and Lisa were in.

"Sir, the room is ready."

"Thank you, Davis. Help me get Lisa here to our room."

When they had cut the rope off her ankles and forced her out of the car, Lisa realized that she was stiffer than she'd expected. She stumbled immediately, although Davis caught her before she could fall.

"Like a baby bird learning to fly," Jackson chided as he came around the other side of the car. Lisa caught sight of him stuffing something pink into his pocket. "Let's go." He grabbed her arm and yanked her behind him.

Lisa finally had the chance to observe her surroundings. They were in the middle of nowhere, naturally, at a motel right off of the highway. The sky was perfectly black and speckled with stars everywhere except for the spot in the air right above them, where the tall motel sign glowed like a beacon of light. They had left the car in the motel's small—and mostly empty—parking lot. There were only two other cars.

"It's been a pain to deal with you out in public," Jackson leaned down to explain to her, "I thought someplace isolated would better suit my needs."

"Lovely."

Davis led them up an outdoor staircase to the second landing. Apparently there was no need to go through the lobby since they already had the key. Davis stopped at a grimy door and produced that key now. He opened the door to a small, one-bed apartment. In the back of Lisa's mind, she observed that this room hardly compared to the cheapest room in her hotel. In the front of her mind, she observed that _there was only one bed._ Her throat grew dry and her heart started pounding all over again. If Jackson tried anything…

She had a flashback to the man in the parking lot. The physical pain, the emotional damage, her father's reaction when she'd told him. She breathed slowly and cleared her mind. _No. I will never let it happen again_, she reminded herself.

"Stay outside and keep watch," Jackson told Davis. "I can handle her from here." Davis nodded, handed Jackson a length of rope, and slipped out. Lisa's breath caught at the sight of the rope. Her imagination wandered to unwanted places, where rope burns and other kinds of pain joined together to spell out a word that Lisa never wished to experience again. Unprecedented tears brimmed her eyes as she watched Jackson handle the rope. It suddenly seemed very silent, except for the crickets outside.

"Do you need to use that?" Lisa asked, her voice cracking slightly.

Jackson stopped and looked up. His expression was questioning, as if he didn't understand why she would even ask. "Yes," he said, then, "Sit." She sat on the edge of the bed and held out her hands. She could tell that Jackson was watching her carefully. "Alright," he said as he brought the rope under her hands, "What's wrong?"

Lisa willed the tears to disappear. She tried to calm her ragged breathing. "Nothing," she said, "I just...I think the rope is pretty unfair. Wasn't the deal that you'd only hurt me with whatever I use to hurt you? I never used rope."

Jackson hesitated. "That's not the real reason you're crying, but you make a valid point." He tossed the rope aside and pulled the grimy pink ribbon out of his pocket. Lisa's heart dropped. Not surprisingly, he tied the ribbon right around her previous rope burns. She winced. The ribbon was much, much worse. She didn't object when he decided to use the rope around her ankles regardless of "the deal."

As soon as he was done, Lisa curled up on the bed, as close to the edge facing away from Jack as possible. She closed her eyes and willed Jackson to leave her alone. She was unsure of his intentions, but the situation they were in made her feel sick to her stomach.

"Going to bed so soon?" He sounded amused.

"Tired," Lisa said.

"You've had all day to sleep in the car."

Lisa didn't respond. _Go away, go away, go away_, she thought. She felt the mattress behind her sink down. Her breathing picked up again. Jackson put his hand on her shoulder and rolled her over so that she was looking directly into his face. His gaze wandered all over, from her eyes to her lips to her neck. He brought his hand to her face and wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. She brought up her hands to push him away.

"Don't-"

"Relax," he commanded. "I'm not going to try anything on you." He almost seemed offended at the thought. But she wouldn't relax until he stopped fingering the hem of her sweater. "You seem hot. Want me to take this off?"

"No."

"Suit yourself. Personally, I think the priest pulled it off better than you, but it could look worse."

"Is the priest-?"

"-Alive. Yes. You really don't know the first thing about me." He stood up suddenly and went to the desk on the other side of the room. He picked up a pamphlet and skimmed through it.

Lisa continued to lay on her side, facing away from Jackson as he ordered room service for both of them. They didn't say a word as they waited. Lisa just listened to Jackson moving about the room, from the chair to the bathroom to the closet. He seemed as restless as she felt. He made a couple of phone calls in the meantime too. Everything she caught him saying was too ambiguous for her to understand, so she didn't try.

When they finally got the rap on their door that signaled the arrival of the food, Jackson took every precaution to ensure that the server didn't see Lisa. Not like she would have tried anything at this point anyway.

She did eat this time, not caring that the food tasted like clay in her mouth or that she had to lift both hands every time she brought the fork up. When she was done, she rolled back onto her side and waited for sleep to come. There was nothing else she could do.

But sleep didn't come. Her mind was busy with thoughts of everything; from the past to the present to the future. She still had no idea why she was being kidnapped or what she could do to get out of it. Maybe if Jackson fell asleep, she could use the phone. She was in the middle of the thought when Jackson pulled the phone's plug out of the socket behind the bed. She would never be able to discretely plug it back in with her arms and legs bound like this. _Great_, she thought, and a new wave of hopelessness washed over her.

Eventually, she started thinking about her dad again. She knew he would start to worry if he didn't hear from her for a couple days. Her heart broke to imagine how he would react to this news if he ever found out. Her mom too, of course. The tears finally started to fall. They dripped down her nose and soaked the sheets under her cheek.

Jackson finally settled down in the chair facing Lisa. He was nothing but a dark silhouette in Lisa's periphery; like a stone gargoyle, patiently watching and waiting, yet posing a threat to all in its line of sight. Lisa didn't cease her tears just for him. Rather, she stared at a rip in the faded wallpaper and felt a sudden urge to talk.

Her voice started off shaky. "When my parents got divorced and my mom moved to Texas...my father made me a promise. He took me in his arms and he said he would always protect me. At the time, I think he meant from heartbreak. But when...when I was raped, he took it harder than anyone else. Even more than me. He said he'd let me down." She looked up at Jackson then, fresh tears running down her nose. "Please, Jackson, you have to keep my father safe. And you can't let him find out about this, no matter what happens. It will kill him. Please."

Jackson looked down at her with an expression that resembled disgust. He said nothing; just continued to sit there and watch. Lisa turned away from him and let the fresh wave of sobs wrack her body. Eventually, the tears died down. Her nose was stuffy and her eyelids swollen. She became very aware of Jackson's weighty gaze, and it finally started to make her feel uncomfortable. She sniveled and whimpered, "Can you just go away."

Moments later, she heard the front door open. Lisa's eyes widened. She looked over her shoulder to see Jackson stepping outside. He was holding the door open with his foot, but he was facing away from her, giving her some actual privacy for once. Lisa dropped her head back down on the mattress. Her depressing thoughts disintegrated with the reintroduction of hope. She searched her surroundings frantically. Her eyes landed again on the phone. She strained her neck to see where the end of the cord was. Still somewhere under her bed. If she could just inch her way to the edge of the bed and quietly swing herself off, and if Jackson kept his back turned, he might never notice. She started inching. Then, she heard the door shut behind her. Lisa sprung into action. She rolled off the bed like James Bond with his limbs tied together and thumped to the ground. Like a worm, she scooted her arms and head under the skirt of the bed and felt around for the end of the phone cord.

As soon as she found it, something grabbed the rope around her ankles. Lisa shouted in surprise. She was rapidly being dragged backwards. Her feet were in fact being lifted off the ground. She tried to kick her bound legs in an effort to free them, but the clamp around her ties did not loosen. She grabbed hold of the skirt of the bed-now she was completely suspended in the air like a stuffed animal stuck between the metal hand of a claw machine and some other toy with which it was entangled. But unlike most claw machines, the metal hand won. She was yanked away from the bed skirt and ended up dangling in the air by her feet like a butchered pig.

Lisa tried punching the kneecaps of the monster that had pulled her up. She screamed, "Let me down! Let me down!" The monster was unfazed. It swung her back onto the bed, pulled the bedsheets over her, and tucked her in so tightly that she could hardly move. Lisa glared up at Davis. He hardly even acknowledged her. But he did sit beside her on the bed.

Minutes later, Jackson entered again. Lisa saw his eyes dart quickly from Lisa to Davis. "This wasn't what I meant by 'Go away,'" Lisa grumbled.

"Davis, you can go back to the car now."

Davis stood up dutifully and walked out.

"Is he a better dog than your last one?" Lisa asked spitefully.

"He's a more _alive_ dog than my last one," Jackson responded, giving Lisa a pointed look. Lisa couldn't help feeling a small ping of pride. For months after she had killed that man, she'd felt sick thinking about his abrupt ending and what family he may have had. But she'd gradually started to think about it in a better light. His job was to kill her father, and he had tried to kill her too. He had probably already killed tens of people, and he wouldn't have stopped after that fatal day. The way Lisa saw it now, she had saved more lives than she had ended.

Jackson walked over to the small closet then. Lisa watched him as he gingerly pulled off his suit jacket and draped it over a hanger. Then his fingers traveled to the top button of his grey dress shirt and expertly undid it. His eyes flicked to hers as he continued on to the next button. She quickly looked away, but something encouraged her to look back when his dress shirt was completely off.

Seeing him in his tight undershirt had the same effect on her as when she'd noticed Jackson's stubble earlier that morning. The fact that he wore an undershirt, and needed to take off his suit jacket in order to sleep, made him appear once again to be _human_. This lack of business-only attire was some indication that he had a life outside of his job. Lisa imagined him deciding which clothes to wear that day, and whether he should shave or not, and what cologne he should pat on his neck to get the ladies' attention. She wondered if he had a girlfriend, or any friends at all. And if so, she wondered if they knew what he did for a living. At last, she felt her very first seed of remorse for Jackson Rippner.

"What is it?" Jackson asked. Lisa realized she was staring.

"Nothing."

"Do you want me to take off the undershirt too?"

"No."

"Of course not."

Jackson turned off the lights and went back to the chair. Lisa watched him carefully as he sat down and settled into the back cushion. She wondered why he chose the chair over the bed. But she wasn't opposed to the decision. She felt abundantly more comfortable with him at a distance.

"Go to sleep, Lis," Jackson mumbled.

"Easier said than done."

"Just try. You'll wish you had in the morning."

Lisa closed her eyes.

Hours later, she was still awake. She opened her eyes and looked over at Jackson. His eyes were closed. But no sooner had she looked, they opened too. Jackson and Lisa regarded each other soberly. The crickets' song filled their ears. Lisa almost thought she saw a hint of sorrow in Jackson's eyes. Maybe that was just the night playing tricks on her.

Lisa broke the silence first. "There's no way I'm falling asleep tonight," she said softly.

"I suppose that doesn't surprise me." He sighed, then got up and walked over to the mini fridge in the shelving unit across the room. He opened the fridge and pulled out five small glass bottles. "Drink?"

"Why the hell not."

He untwisted the cap from one of the clear bottles and took a swig. Then he walked over to Lisa and handed her the bottle. Lisa didn't think twice-she brought it to her mouth and chugged the remainder of the cheap vodka. She grimaced.

"Not as good as a Seabreeze, huh?" Jackson's mouth was twisted in a sneer, although his eyes were twinkling with amusement.

"I would even take a Bay Breeze over this crap."

"Want another?"

"Sure."

Between the two of them, four of the five bottles were empty within the next five minutes. Lisa drank more than Jackson, and she was already starting to feel the effects. Her head felt heavy and her vision was getting fuzzy.

"Jackson," she slurred, "I'm getting hot. Can you take off the sweater now?"

"Sit up." She did. He took her hands in his and began working at the knot in the ribbon. Lisa's hands felt numb. The alcohol was working wonders for her rope burns. Still, when the ribbon was off, she felt incredible relief, and didn't even notice when Jackson brought her hands up to inspect the wounds. She did notice, however, when Jackson emptied the contents of the remaining bottle of alcohol onto her wrists. The searing pain brought tears to her eyes.

"Jesus christ!" she screamed. Jackson gripped her arms to prevent her from flailing around uncontrollably. Instead, she whipped her head back and cursed at the ceiling.

"Shh, shh," he tried to calm her, "I'm just trying to prevent infection."

"Why do you _care_," Lisa gritted through her clenched teeth. Jackson didn't respond. He waited for Lisa to stop struggling. When she did, he calmly lifted the sweater up and over her head. Lisa lifted her arms obediently.

"What, no fight?" he asked when the sweater was off.

"What's the use?" Lisa shot back.

"Good girl."

Lisa flopped back onto the bed. She sighed and tried to focus on the ceiling panels. The dots on the panels kept moving. She closed her eyes, and was immediately met with visions of specters with long, sharp knives and yards of rope. Jackson's dead associate swam behind her eyelids, screaming and demanding her blood.

"Am I going to die tomorrow?" Lisa asked.

"That's completely up to you."

"I really hate ultimatums," she mumbled. "They're going to give me an ultimatum, aren't they?" She glanced at Jackson. He looked amused again. "_What?_"

"I've never seen you this drunk. It's..."

Lisa sighed exasperatedly. "If you'll excuse me, I need to pee," she announced. "Don't barge in and choke me this time. So...rude."

She wiggled out from under the blankets. Her feet were still bound together, making it impossible for her to exit the bed gracefully. She shuffled and hopped the couple yards to the bathroom, grabbing on to whatever she could to support herself. She still ended up on the ground more than once. As soon as she made it to the bathroom, she turned back and shot a middle finger at Jackson's smiling face.

Lisa had no memory of what happened after she exited the bathroom. She didn't remember Jackson bringing her cup after cup of water, ensuring her that a hangover would make everything worse the next morning. And she certainly didn't remember when Jackson tucked her in and said, "I keep replaying your words in my head; when you told me that I don't have to do this. God, it made me so _angry_ when you said that. You had no idea. You still have no idea. Because I _do_ have to do this, Lis. I really don't have a choice."

She didn't remember, because at that point she was already asleep.


End file.
